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Chapter One
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She was too horny tothink.
Grace was forced to admit that everything currently wrong with her life at that precise moment in time boiled down to that one salient fact. As the lamp above her head swung like a great pendulum, ticking down the seconds until she made a huge fucking mistake, she was forced to confront the ugly truth. She was too horny to think rationally and was about to make a miscalculation in judgment born of imprudent arousal and nothing more — the worst sort to make. As the shadow of the pendant lamp swung over her, the tiny part of her brain not flooded in dopamine and still capable of sense hit the alarm.It’s time to leave!
They had started the evening off at Gildersnood and Ives, but the trendy gastropub was a mecca for the happy hour crowd, always tightly packed with office dwellers and employees of the various businesses in the commerce parkway, and that night had been no exception. Grace had sighed in relief when it was decided they were wasting their time at Gildersnood, hoping that meant she could go home.
The CSA pickup was her longest night of the week. The program she had started had become so successful and grown so large, that the pickup window had been steadily lengthened to accommodate all of the orders. The day began at her normal crack-of-dawn hour at the farm, but she didn't come home until after dark on pickup night, even in the summer, when the balmy heat of day kept the sky a swirl of violet and pink until well into the evening. There would already be stars winking in an indigo sky by the time she finally pulled her little car into her driveway on pickup nights, and as she’d explained to Caleia earlier, she would be exhausted.
"Okay, but literally I don't understand why. You just tell these folks 'oh good, I'm glad you managed to show up on time, on the agreed upon date, even though it makes no difference to me because you've already paid. Take your shit and go.' See? Easy."
Grace had glared up at Caleia's words, the green-skinned dryad standing over her imperiously before the pickup table, front and center on the farm's wide, circular turnaround. They had still been at the farm when the last customer had finally left, gripping the hand of her rambunctious little boy to prevent him from tearing off again. Grace was certain the little amphibian had licked every single piece of farming equipment kept on the circular drive with his darting blue tongue, so she’d hastily called for one of the farm hands to help carry the woman’s bags back to her car, so that she could wrangle her slobbering child.
She didn't bother explaining, knowing her friend wouldn't understand, and perhaps more importantly, Gracedidn't want to sound ungrateful. She loved everything about her job on the farm and her life in Cambric Creek; loved her coworkers and friends, and wouldn't trade these long CSA nights in for anything, as they were proof that she was doing good work here. That didn't mean she wanted to socialize tonight. She didn't know why bars and clubs made her anxious but each and every time felt like the very first day of school — too crowded, too weighted with expectation, and she was horribly out of place. There always seemed to be half a dozen unspoken rules in pubs, rules she was expected to know immediately upon entering, despite the fact that they seemed to be different from establishment to establishment; rules that other people seemed to know instinctively. She’d never been one of the cool kids growing up, and she supposed it was far too late in life to become one now. Besides, she had beenonfor more than twelve hours at that point. Going home was the only thing on her agenda.
"What happened to 'I'm going to start getting out more? I'm going to start being more adventurous?' You act like you're eighty. What do you need to rush home for? To have your bowl of mushed peas and tuck into bed after Wheel of Enticement?"
There was no use arguing with the dryad, a lesson Grace had learned well over the course of their friendship.
"Fine," she’d cried, throwing up her hands in defeat. "I'll go. Happy now? We still need to break down these blackberries before we leave, so don’t go disappearing."
Caleia grinned in triumph; a smug, cat-that-got-the-cream expression on her pert face.
"Yeah, actually I am. This is supposed to be your summer of fun, remember? You said you wanted to be more adventurous, and I’m honor-bound as your friend to make sure that happens. Brogan is coming, sooooo, you know. Let's see where the night takes us, shall we?"
She winked pointedly, and Grace felt heat move up the back of her neck at Caleia’s words as she mentally recounted the previous afternoon. The big bull had been flirting with her since she'd started at the farm, and as she'd reciprocated the flirtation, things had steadily escalated to whispered comments and innuendo that would be likely grounds for termination at any business with an HR department. Fortunately for her employment, Cal's farm possessed no such thing, but they were beginning to toe a dangerous line.
Cambric Creek was in the grip of a heatwave, and even though she started each day with a light cardigan over her sundress, by early afternoon she would be stripped down to the spaghetti strapped shift, while baking beneath the small umbrella at her table. She had just led a small group of newly arrived patrons up the pathway of the north field, instructing them on where they could start picking their own fruit, before detouring around the back of the first barn, in hopes of finding some shade as she journeyed back to the blistering hot concrete pad where her table resided. Brogan had been coming out of the barn, stopping short as he saw her approaching, a lascivious grin spreading across his bovine mouth as he ogled the amount of bare skin she was showing.
"I'm just about to take a break. How about you? Ready for one?"
She’d smiled, not slowing until she was right before him, feeling the drag of his gaze over her body, biting her lip as he shifted, adjusting the front of his jeans with no trace of subtlety.
"I hadn't planned on it just yet . . ." It would be easy to pretend she were the innocent recipient of unwanted advances, Grace thought as she looked up coquettishly, but it would have been a lie of the most heinous sort. "What did you have in mind?"
He didn't step aside as she moved between him and the barn wall, the press of his huge body even hotter than the blazing sun. Her breath had caught when he’d crowded her against the wooden exterior of the barn, the outline of his cock pressed to her front, a meaty hand dropping to her hip, holding her there.
"Far be it for me to be inappropriate in the workplace, but if you care to join me for an off-the-clock lunchtime rendezvous in the back barn, I can guarantee you won't walk right for a week."
She didn't want to date the big minotaur. She didn't want to get involved with anyone from work. She was smart enough to know that it would only bring trouble. Grace loved her job, loved the people she worked with and the community they served, and she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that. That didnotmean, as her hand involuntarily raised to scrape her nails over his denim encased erection, that a very base part of her, the part she was somewhat ashamed to admit existed, wasn't desperate to be fucked stupid by her coworker.Too horny to think. Her ex had been a minotaur as well, and while she knew better than to paint the whole species with his tarnished brush, her experience saved her from needing to employ too much imagination to visualize what her coworker was packing below the belt.
She could easily envision exactly how long and thick his cock would be, and knew all too well the delicious pressure that came from being filled by something with that girth. There was a touch of truth to the fantasies she harbored, and as a consequence, she knew how good it would feel to let Brogan lead her off to one of the empty outbuildings, hold her up, and fuck her against the wall. She could almost picture the giant puddle of his release that would be left in the grass, the dirt, or wherever it was they would choose for their illicit assignation, once it had gushed out of her. She would hobble back to her little table on shaky legs with cum-smeared thighs, her cunt gaping open from the shape of him, and ripples of her orgasm still shivering up her spine as she retook her place, smiling brightly to greet community shoppers, schoolchildren, and other daily visitors to the farm. She didn't need to try hard to imagine exactly what she'd be getting by fucking her coworker, and that made resisting his completely inappropriate overtures that much harder.
"Oh, well that seemsveryinappropriate for the workplace," she murmured, pressing herself a little tighter to him, squeezing where she thought his balls would be, her cunt quivering when he grunted in response. "Besides, CSA pickup is tomorrow. Being able to walk properly for that seems sort of important."
"Not inappropriate at all," he disputed in a low, sultry voice. "If I wanted to be inappropriate, I would have told you that the sight of you in that little dress is making my cock hard, and I want to lick those pretty tits while you ride it. See the difference? Completely appropriate."
Her ears had been hot when she finally edged past him, squeezing his hard cock a final time, squinting in the sunlight his big body had buffered.
"When you put it that way, you're right. I suppose you were being completely appropriate. But I really do need to get back to my table."
Brogan had chuckled, shrugging. "Well, I guess that decides my lunch plans." When she'd raised an eyebrow questioningly, he rubbed a hand over the bulge at the front of his snug jeans. "I'm going to head over to the milking place, I guess. I got a list of chores that need to get done today, but I need my balls emptied before I can focus on any of them. Since someone in her little dress went and filled them up."
It wasn't the first time that their flirtation and innuendos had crossed the line to outright sexual propositions, but she knew if she strolled back to her own work and made a point of avoiding him for at least a week, the counter would be reset and they would go back to harmless little quips and comments . . . until things escalated once more, and he was offering to fuck her over the hood of her car at quitting time.
It was a mistake going out that night, a mistake seeing him away from the farm only a day after his lunch time suggestion. Their little game of ‘will we or won't we’ was fast becoming a game of ‘when will we,’ and Grace wasn't sure if she wanted to take that step. She knew it wouldn't be smart, and no matter what else she was, she had always tried to be smart. Shewantedto straddle his wide hips, wanted to get down on hands and knees for him, wanted to let his oversized cock graze her tonsils as he fucked her into the next fiscal quarter. She wasn't stupid enough however, despite Caleia's inference, to actually allow it to happen, no matter what she wanted, or how embarrassingly easy it would be.
